


I Wanted To Be You And Do What You Do

by JustARobin05



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bad Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Panic Attacks, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), mentioned suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28774533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustARobin05/pseuds/JustARobin05
Summary: Tommy had been wanting to do this for a while, to confront his father. When there's no one there to stop him, he travels to Technoblade's cabin when he knows he's not there."Can we talk?"A small invitation that was much more a demand than anything else left his mouth and floated up into the air.// Title from the song: Rät by Penelope Scott \\
Relationships: Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 404





	I Wanted To Be You And Do What You Do

"Can we talk?"

A small invitation that was much more a demand than anything else left his mouth and floated up into the air. Tommy looked to the older man, his father in only blood, who had been smiling and joking with someone else. Another child, who wasn't Tommy, nor was it Wilbur who had been made Ghostbur by the same man whos smile had dropped.

They hadn't noticed that the blonde was there. That was okay, he was fine with that. Either that or he couldn't feel the disappointment enough to care.

"Uh- okay, sure," Phil walked closer to his son, further away from Ranboo. "I'll be back, alright mate?"

"Okay," the hybrid had the decency to recognise that something was wrong. His tone was soft with anxiety and worry, as though Tommy would hurt the father figure. He wouldn't, not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't without being hurt himself. He only had one more dance with death left, and he'd rather sit in the corner and sway to the subtle beat of life.

"Where are we going?" his tone was false, an invitation for light-hearted small talk. Tommy wouldn't fall for it.

"Just- just follow me," he muttered, and Phil nodded. Nothing was said after that, the older had noted the shift in Tommy's attitude, it seemed. It was far too late for him to only just start paying attention.

They had to travel far to get to where Tommy wanted them, but he was ready for that. The older blonde had the mind not to object as they travelled through portals and wondered by the remains of a once-great nation. They followed a path that Tommy was very much used to, usually he walked it with Tubbo, but the shorter boy was too busy to distract him from this.

He slowed down when he saw the familiar bench, sitting down on the very edge of it, swaying his body with his arms either side of him, hands on the bench seat, he was close to falling off the steep cliff edge in front of him. He chuckled to himself as he remembered that not long ago he would've wished to.

Phil looked to the boy with a small look of confusion and worry, unsure of what to do. When noticing this, Tommy said one word, another order that his father followed; "Sit,". The elder let himself rest into the back of the bench, unlike Tommy who was still swinging his torso.

"What do you want?" he almost sounded agitated, the youngest found himself close to laughter at the tone. Him, _he_ was angry? He had no fucking right.

"I just want to talk, is that a problem Big Man?"

"Well," he swung his arm out, as if motioning him to go on. "What do you want to talk about?"

The air stilled around him as he tried to find his words. He had thunk it over in his head day after day for weeks, points he would make, how his words and anger would force Phil to agree with him. Yet, there he was, unable to access the them.

A dry laugh escaped him, he wouldn't be surprised if it was a sob instead. "You-You're," he stuttered, trying to find the words, and almost exploding with chortles of amusement when he finally tracked them down. "You're a shitty dad," 

Phil didn't respond. There was a flash of hurt in his eyes, but that was the only reaction Tommy got. He was left to continue the rant that had only just begun.

"You're really, _really_ , shit. I don't- I don't get how I didn't see it before," he cleared his throat, his tone had settled into a much more serious one. "And before you bring it up, I don't mean because you fucking stabbed Wilbur." at that the elder tensed. "I mean it because you- you weren't _there_ for him," his chest felt tight, "You- you let him get to that point, you left him for so long- and for what?"

"I wasn't there, I didn't know,"

"Doesn't change the fact that you should've been!" he was close to sobbing, he was close to laughing; he was close to losing his goddamn mind. "You didn't see him deteriorate,"

There was silence.

"Is that all?"

"Oh, no, fuck no!" he laughed, "You weren't there for _me_ , Philza," the name was spat out from in between his lips as though it was poison. "You gave up, and now you've got a new kid? What the fuck is up with that?"

"I didn't give up,"

"Where have you been, then?"

A small pause. "I fucked it up," he admitted, "I know, and I met Ranboo 'n thought that I wouldn't fuck it up with him,"

"Wishful thinking,"

"I dunno, it's going pretty well so far," he refused to meet the teenager in the eyes, but Tommy could see the stoney cold walls that he'd built up behind the blue hues with his own. 

"Is that what you thought before Wilbur got into a fucking war?"

"Tommy, stop!" Tommy flinched, the upward twist to his lips fell. A tear fell down his cheek as he looked at the green his "father" was wearing, with his vision blurring, it looked far too similar to-to...

He didn't want to cry. That wasn't part of the perfectly crafted script he'd spent months making, still, droplets of repressed emotion crawled down his face in betrayal. He wiped his eyes.

"What? What did I- Tommy?" he reached out his hand, the moment that it touched the teenagers back he violently flinched. Phil withdrew his hand, looking confused.

"Fuck- fuck... this wasn't," he smiled, "This wasn't part of the plan!" he started to giggle, but that was drowned out by the onslaught of tears still coming. "You- you don't know! YOU DON'T FUCKING KNOW!" he screamed into the air, out towards the sky, off the cliff; to who should be his dad.

"YOU WEREN'T THERE. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT HE DID- YOU SHOULD! YOU SHOULD! BUT YOU- YOU FUCKING DON'T!"

"What... who?" quiet confusion played out into Tommy's long-awaited break.

"Who the fuck do you think," his voice cracked mid-way through his words. "You sided with the man who..." he wouldn't say it. He hadn't told anyone, he was sure as hell not telling Philza, "You- you sided with Dream to blow up L'manberg- a place _I_ built with Tubbo and-and Wilbur," 

"It needed to go,"

"Dream needs to go," Tommy sniffled, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand. He hadn't noticed his sobs dying down.

"What did he do to you that was so bad," the tone played out as though a teenager was asking why they couldn't drink themselves into a blackout. He reminded him of Wilbur during his teenagehood, like father like son, he thought with a slight tint of bitterness. It would've much more bitter if it weren't for his anxiety spiking, ice shooting through his veins; chills spread out under his skin and up his spine as fear made his stomach plummet. 

Silence crept its way and snuck through the air around the two, like a snake that was waiting to attack, and it did; the absence of voice stilled Tommy's ability to speak, the fangs of quiet sunk into his throat, the tail of the creature wrapping around his chest and forcing his breaths to become shallow and fast. The snake had a name, and that name played out through Tommy's life, the snake he'd repressed in need of survival. Panic did not spare Tommy when he needed it to; it held no mercy.

"Tommy?" he could barely hear him over the snake's hiss, over the cloud it made within the walls of his mind. "Hey, hey, Tommy, what happened? What did I do?"

Tommy jumped as a hand landed on the back of his ribs, but it didn't move at the objection of touch. "Look, mate, I'm sorry, you've just got to talk to me, breath,"

"I-I can't," he was unaware which statement he was disagreeing with. He didn't know if he couldn't breathe, or if he couldn't talk to the man, but he knew that it didn't matter either way. He couldn't have one without the other.

"Yes, you can,"

He'd seen this song and dance many times, but he'd never sung along with the rhythm that forced him to fly across the dance floor and avoid a certain serpents attacks. He'd seen it, he'd lead it, he'd instructed deep breaths and whispered promises of light in the darkness. He had picked up tips from watching Wilbur in the middle of the night. Then the brunette had dragged Tommy away from home, and it was up to the youngest to stomp down on rising panic. It wasn't long that Tubbo became victim to the snakes attacks either.

Tommy was used to seeing it, he was used to helping people find safety, he was used to seeking safety through the cloud of acidic panic himself. What he wasn't used to, though, was being guided through it. He wasn't used to being the one with a gentle hand on his back, that hand belonging to Phil, the feeling of letting the man comfort him almost felt like he was betraying himself. He still listened to, though, not because he wanted to, but because it was in his best interest. No, not because Phil was strangely calming still, not because he used to be his dad, not because he wanted Phil to protect him the way he used to. _Not at all._

As he crawled back from his panicked state, he reminded himself that he hadn't protected him. Tommy had fought in wars, fucking _wars_ , what sixteen-year-old can say that they've done that? Other than Tubbo, who? Had Phil helped him then? No, he wasn't there.

He was never there for him.

"Stop," he let out, throat hurting due to the hyperventilating he'd done, "Stop touching me,"

The older man let his hand fall onto the bench. Tommy leant back, feeling cool wood through his shirt. The shirt he'd had to patch up after his exile, he didn't own another one.

"I..." Phil let a deep breath float into his lungs, "I think... I thought you were doing better of without me,"

"I'm sixteen,"

"Yeah, I realise that," he said, if he didn't need to be serious, Tommy could imagine the man smiling and letting a small bubble of amusement rise from his chest. "What did Dream do, Tommy?"

His tone was parental, something his voice had been lacking since he'd been around.

"He... he was my only friend," the words were only a half-truth by then, part of it still clung to him like nothing ever had done before. "Or- he made me think that," Phill hummed, waiting for Tommy to continue.

"I think he... uh, I think he manipulated me?" it came out as a question, he didn't want to go against Dream. He hated the green fucker, but he was all he had in exile. "I almost..." he looked out over the scene of the, now setting, sun. "I almost killed myself,"

"WHAT!?" he flinched. Those words were an almost sickening contrast to the small whispers Tommy had let out. "You- what? No, no, that can't..."

"It doesn't sound like something I'd do, I know,"

"Tommy, Tommy, look at me," he did, turning to Phill with a slight confusion. "I care about you,"

"It's not that big of a deal, you don't need to lie,"

"I'm not lying!"

"Then why did you leave? Why did you just- why did you take Ranboo in?"

"... I'm a shit dad,"

"Yeah," Tommy laughed, the confession shocking him, "Yeah, you- you really are,"

Then, Philza began to laugh. It'd be a nice scene, a father and son laughing while watching the sunset, if you were unaware of why their laughter echoed around the land. Tommy almost felt like the air was joining in on their crazed hilarity, picking up speed and rushing around the two. It felt like the world had finally found something to latch onto, as something had finally been set right. 

The wind then died down, as did the two on the bench.

"So..." Phil said, "What do you want now?"

"What?"

"What do you want from like... our... relationship?"

So many things ran through his head. So many arguments, so many fantasized scenarios, so many that he could pick from. The one that Tommy chose, the answer he settled on, was not one of them. He almost felt like he was betraying himself again, but knew that he was simply being honest.

"I want my dad back," Tommy let out, tears in his eyes once more.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second fic I've written from Tommy's point of view, in both of them he's had a panic attack. Wow.


End file.
